


Sherlock’s Bed

by FinAmour



Series: 221(B)oyfriends [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys Kissing, Caring John, Clueless Sherlock, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Sherlock and Molly are besties, Vulnerable Sherlock, awkward phone calls, morgues, not so subtle references to a penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinAmour/pseuds/FinAmour
Summary: On Sunday morning, John and Sherlock wake up together, in love and in Sherlock’s bed.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: 221(B)oyfriends [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896241
Comments: 48
Kudos: 302





	Sherlock’s Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing “Succulent” that I didn’t want to leave this world behind! So I decided to start a series of short stories dedicated to the boy’s lives as their relationship develops. Though this is technically a series, each story will also be understandable on its own. Enjoy :)

On Sunday morning, John and Sherlock wake up together, in love and in Sherlock’s bed.

It’s been seven hours and twenty-six minutes since Sherlock confessed his love, and John has expressed his appreciation by spending thirty-one percent of those minutes practicing his kissing techniques. Though Sherlock is positive he’s mastered this skill, he has decided not to share this information, as he thoroughly enjoys being John’s subject.

Once out of Sherlock’s bed on this particular Sunday, things feel very different, yet most things remain the same. They carry on with their mornings and afternoons as before: toast and tea for breakfast, John’s shift at the clinic, Sherlock solving crimes all day like the divine intellectual that he is.

And in the evening, John comes home, and they kiss. A lot. Yes, well—that part is a bit different.

They kiss so much that Sherlock has begun to take chapstick very seriously. His tongue has got such a workout that it could lift weights, or recite a Verdi opera without stumbling over a syllable. Sherlock’s got burn marks on his chin from John’s prickly facial growth, and bruises on his neck from John performing a sensual hoover-like motion with his mouth they are both very, very fond of.

Sherlock’s not entirely sure how much kissing between himself and John might be considered a lot, as his only frame of reference is prior to a week ago, when the number was never. And though one might think performing a single activity for hours on end would become tiresome, this is not the case at all—John is a professional, and he knows how to keep it exciting.

Outside the flat, there are only little changes: in the way they gaze at each other over a corpse at a crime scene just a tad longer than before. In the way John can’t seem to control the corners of his mouth from turning up whenever Sherlock says his name. But best of all, in the way Sherlock no longer has to pretend that his staring at John’s arse is accidental.

Outside, they don’t talk about the kissing. They don’t talk about it inside, either, but perhaps that’s because their mouths are otherwise entangled. 

Sherlock doesn’t understand any of it, really. He doesn’t understand why there are no discussions about it, and he especially doesn’t understand why they kiss all day and go to their separate beds at night.

So the following Saturday, gathered around an exam table in the morgue, he decides to ask Molly Hooper.

***

“John isn’t sleeping in my bed.” He leans in to get a better view of the large intestine Molly is examining. “Should he be sleeping in my bed?”

Molly halts what she’s doing and peeks up at him quizzically through her goggles. “Does he typically sleep in your bed?”

“Just the one time, after I learned he was in love with me. I mean, I suppose we didn’t sleep that much. We spent a lot of time kissing.”

Molly’s mouth hangs open as she slowly pulls her scalpel from the corpse and sets it onto the tray. “Hold on. Let’s back up. John told you he’s in love with you?”

“Yes.”

“And did you say it back?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god? Sherlock!” she squeals, reaching over Ms. Smith’s entrails to take his hands. “The two of you confessed your love?!” She jumps up and down with excitement.

“Yes.” Sherlock finds her reaction puzzling. Why would Molly Hooper be so profoundly happy about the two of them being in love? “Apparently it’s been the case for some time. Who could possibly have known?”

“Literally everyone.” Molly nods, squeezing his hands. “Except you, that is.”

Sherlock pouts. “And John.”

“Well, you figured it out in the end.” She smiles and lets go of his hands. “That’s all that matters.”

“I suppose so,” Sherlock says distantly.

“Oh!” Molly picks up her scalpel. “I need details. How did he tell you? Were there flowers? Is he a good kisser?“

“Card. Sort of. Sensational.”

“Did you do any more than kissing?” She tilts her head slightly. “Is he, you know...?” She lowers her eyes below her waist.

“We also did a minimal amount of sleeping. Is he...what?”

“You know.” She waggles her eyebrows at him. “...Down there?”

Sherlock frowns. “Yes. Of course.” John is always down there, because he’s short. Molly is weird.

She giggles. “Ignore me. I’m just living vicariously through you. Been single for awhile now.” Molly decided months ago that she was done with “losers” and that she was going to take time to work on herself.

“Yes. How’s that going?” he asks.

“Great,” she says. “I’m learning a lot. But it’s still fun to hear about other people’s love lives. Are you two officially together, then?”

Sherlock purses his lips. “We haven’t actually talked about that. How do I know?”

“Has he referred to you as his partner, boyfriend, anything like that?”

“Boyfriend?” Sherlock has never been a boyfriend before. “I don’t know. All I know about boyfriends is what I’ve learned from all of yours. Give unsolicited advice such as ‘maybe don’t wear that blouse’ or ‘your eggplant parmesan was dry,’ and never ever ever ever ever ever ever text back.”

“Good lord,” Molly responds.

“I hope that I’m not required to do those things,” he states. “Because I think John looks ravishing in everything he wears, and I love his cooking, and when he texts me, I can’t wait to text him back. Should I suggest that he smile more?”

“No!” Molly laughs. “God, please do not use my prior relationships as reference. There’s a reason I took time from dating. I kept attracting losers—and neither you, nor John, are losers. You are both fantastic and both very lucky.”

Sherlock sighs. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I think this is a conversation you need to have with him.”

“I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome. I’m really, really happy for you, and I know it will all sort itself—“ she looks back up to see Sherlock dialing John’s number on his phone. “What, you’re calling him now?”

“Hey, Sherlock,” John answers. “Almost finished up at the morgue?”

“John.” Sherlock gives Molly a knowing wink, and she groans. “John, am I your boyfriend, or am I simply an incredibly sexy, charming genius you put your lips on in your spare time?”

John goes silent for a moment. “Erm. Is that Molly I heard in the background?”

“Yes, she’s here. It’s fine. She already knows all of the important details, such as your status ‘down there.’”

“Sherlock!” The two of them exclaim his name in unison, creating a wondrous surround sound effect.

“John, answer the question!” Sherlock whines.

“Sherlock, I’m happy to talk about this,” although the tone of his voice is more on the side of impartial. “But I think we should discuss it in person once you’re home. That alright?”

“Alright,” Sherlock agrees. “But no kissing! I know your dirty tricks, Watson, and it will only distract us from the topic at hand!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” John teases. “My mouth will go nowhere near yours until we have a thorough discussion.”

“Good. Bye, John.”

“See you soon, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looks up from his phone and over to Molly. “I’ve got to cut this short—“

Molly beams. “It’s fine, Sherlock. Go home to your love.”

“My love,” Sherlock says beneath his breath. He likes the sound of that.

***

He arrives home at a quarter to ten. The lights are off in the sitting room of 221B, but once he enters, he notices a faint light glowing beneath his bedroom door. His heart begins to flutter, and he opens it to find exactly what he was hoping for.

John is in his bed. He lies out beneath the duvet, open book in his hands.

“John.” Sherlock breathes steadily, or at least he tries. “Hi.”

John sets his book down and smiles. “Hello.”

Sherlock says nothing further; he walks swiftly towards his bed, toeing off his shoes on the way. He collapses onto the mattress, shuffles his body next to John, and wraps his arms around him—just to make sure he doesn’t leave.

“John, are you aware you’re in my bed?” he asks. 

“Quite aware.”

“Good.” He lays his on John’s chest. “I hoped it was on purpose.”

John places a kiss at the top of his head. “I would love for it to happen more often.”

“Mmm. I would also love that.”

John takes Sherlock’s hand as he begins combing his other one through Sherlock’s hair. “I’m very happy with you, Sherlock,” he says. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more vocal about it. I didn’t want you to be scared or overwhelmed, so I was taking it slow. But I suppose I ought to have communicated that to you first.”

“Perhaps,” Sherlock acknowledges. “Though I do appreciate the way you’ve been communicating with your lips. I mean, I suppose you always communicate with your lips, since you use them to form words, but I’m specifically referring to the type of communication where your lips and my lips are taking up the same space at the same time—"

"Sherlock.” John cuts him off. “Would you like to be my boyfriend?”

Sherlock tilts his head back to look into his eyes—royal blue and full of certainty.

“Yes.” He sets his head back onto John’s chest. “And I will even continue admiring your cooking and your choice of jumpers, and text you back within a reasonable period of time.”

John’s laughter rustles Sherlock’s hair. “Good.”

“Am I supposed to ask you, now?”

“Ask me what?”

“To be my boyfriend.”

“You can, if you’d like.”

“Alright.” Sherlock swallows. “John. Will you—“ suddenly, the words feel stuck in his throat. He coughs and tries once more. “John, will you be my boyf—“ he chokes again, and there’s a sudden pricking feeling in his eyes. “Apologies. I appear to be exhibiting symptoms of acute sinusitis.”

John wraps him more tightly in his arms. “It’s alright. You can ask whenever you’re ready.” He brushes another kiss on his cheek. “The answer will still be the same.”

“—be my boyfriend! Aha!” The words finally make their way out, though Sherlock notices that his eyes are beginning to grow wet.

“Nothing would make me happier,” John says. 

Sherlock’s eyes are now fully leaking. He wipes his face on John’s t-shirt. “It’s my first time being a boyfriend, you know. I’ll have much to learn.”

John continues to stroke Sherlock’s hair. “It’s my first time being a boyfriend to someone who means so much to me. What do you say we learn it all together?”

“I’d like that a lot,” Sherlock replies. John truly does have the very best ideas.


End file.
